The Giant in the Lecture Hall
by Cobbledstories
Summary: Every year, a certain Macedonian quits his world travels and comes back to London to visit a certain professor at the Clock Tower. The students always know. -A quick snapshot of what Lord El-Melloi II's life might be like had Rider survived the 4th Holy Grail War.


It always started with his office, first.

Normally, the small mahogany desk was akin to a pigsty, strewn with ungraded papers and scraps of parchment. Volumes of books lay stacked into teetering towers in the corners of the room. As classy and elegant as Lord El-Melloi II appeared to be, it would only take one look through the door for anyone to realize he was actually a hopeless slob.

But some days, very rarely, Flatt Escardos would barge through the door and find the mahogany desk clean, the papers graded, and his teacher calmly shelving books in a bookcase which had long since replaced the volumes with—somewhat anachronistically-decanters of brandy and tacky video game merchandise. On his desk was an open letter and a calendar, one date circled in bright red marker.

"For fuck's sake, Flatt, how many times," El-Melloi II would say, scowling at him. "Knock before you enter."

But the animosity would only be half-hearted, and even as the words left his mouth his furrowed brow would clear, as if he just couldn't help but be happy.

Flatt, who knew by now how to read the signs, took advantage of Master V's mood to ask if he could take Mercury-tan out on a date.

"Fuck off," responded Professor Velvet instantly, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

He did not, miraculously, assign Flatt any extra homework.

After that, the changes would spread—to the lightness in Master V's step as he strode down the hallways, to the more forgiving grades he gave back to the students. To Flatt's delight, he even eventually gave in and grudgingly let him take Volumen Hydragem out for an afternoon to see a movie. Flatt, never one to waste his opportunities, immediately obtained a DVD of _2001: A Space Odyssey, _and took great glee in the habit the Maid Golem subsequently developed of saying, "I'm sorry, Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that," to response to various commands. Meanwhile, the weary lines of bitterness etched onto Professor Velvet's face—so seemingly permanent—slowly softened and disappeared altogether.

Older students like Flatt knew the score and smiled to themselves, keeping track of that little circled date on the calendar in the professor's office. The freshmen, however, were completely at a loss.

"He's bewitched. Got to be."

"Some new video game came out, maybe?"

"Maybe he finally got laid."

Giggles broke out in the crowd. "Lucky girl!"

"Nah, you know, I bet he murdered Flatt."

"Hey!" objected Flatt. "I'm right here! And anyways, it's none of those things."

The freshmen clustered around him. Held back year after year, Flatt had now been at the Clock Tower for longer than any of the other students, and thus was an infamous fountain of dubiously accurate knowledge.

"Come on, Flatt! Spill it!"

He winked and wagged his finger. "You guys'll find out soon enough. Just over a week now."

Flatt, too, kept an eye on the circled date in Master V's office, and when the day finally came he showed up to the lecture hall on time and wide awake (for once). Lord El-Melloi II, throughout the course of his own class, checked his watch seventy-eight times and forgot to collect their homework.

"Class dismissed," he announced abruptly five minutes before the scheduled end, and began to pace next to the lecture podium with an unlit cigar in his mouth.

The students made a mad rush for the exits before he could change his mind. Flatt took his time packing up his things, keeping an eye on his teacher.

_Boom!_

There was a sudden crack of thunder, and the arched windows lining the room flashed with lightning. There was the distant sound of bulls lowing. Professor Velvet looked up.

"Was it raining earlier?" murmured a student nearby Flatt.

Flatt opened his mouth to reply—but at that moment, the chattering of the students fell silent, stifled by startled gasps. Like the red sea, the mob parted, and a giant strode through the path that opened up before him.

The giant was clad in leather armor and a thick red billowing cape. At his waist hung a great sheath, into which he slid a gigantic sword. Students scrambled to get out of his way and out of the room. He paid them no mind, making his way past the rows of the lecture hall, down towards the mage standing next to the teacher's podium. The students watched open-mouthed.

At last the red-haired conquerer stopped, folded his arms, and beamed.

"Yo, Waver!" said Iskandar. "How are you, boy?"

"Rider," howled Professor Velvet, his face in his hands, "you bloody dumbass!"

The upperclassmen cheered, Flatt's loud whoops sounding high above the rest, and the story of how Alexander the Great crashed the alchemy lecture (again) circulated the school for the next few days. Flatt, as was his yearly tradition, would insist to everyone that the entire Ionian Hetaroi had come marching into the classroom. No one believed him, but he didn't care. Only one thing mattered.

Lord El-Melloi II was smiling.


End file.
